


Icecream

by SpookshowBabyx



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-01-19 12:16:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1469434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookshowBabyx/pseuds/SpookshowBabyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina overhears the Charmings discussing Emma's birthday plans, much to Emma's displeasure. Taking the opportunity to enjoy her own dose of antagonising the blonde; the Mayor takes up their seat to share her own opinions, and eventually a little more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A birthday present for one of my favourite people. This was a bit of a spur of the moment piece so had no clue what was going to happen, but... yes... Prompt: Icecream.
> 
> As far as when this is set, it's a little AU. Set after the return from Neverland, but based on the theory that Rumple was able to defeat Pan, thus leaving SB in an odd lull of 'hey! no one's trying to kill us all right now!' (I know, I know, it'll never happen.)

"Well... Just think on it, Emma... I know it's not really your scene, but  _we'd_  really like to do something for your Birthday... It doesn't have to be something big, just-"

" _-Okay!_... Okay, I'll think about it..."

The blonde grumbles as she toys with the fries on her plate and glowers at Granny's small noise of bemusement from the corner that matches her mother's perfectly. Offering the old cook a stern glance which has the greying woman swiftly slipping from behind the counter to see to her customers, she sighs, before nibbling apathetically at her food while Snow and David watch her as though waiting for something. Growling irritably, she rolls her eyes as she refuses to look up from her plate.

"I said I'd think about it, I didn't mean right this  _second_..."

Accepting this moody murmur as a dismissal, Mary Maragaret frowns and shrugs her shoulders; sliding from her stool and making for the door followed by Charming, while her anxious lament of

"I  _knew_  she'd be like this about it, maybe we should have just stuck to the idea of a surprise party..."

reaches the curious Mayor, who smiles down at her own plate. Waiting for the two idiots to leave, she studies the Sheriff in amusement; the younger woman's response to the offer of a jovial celebration entirely predictable so far as she's concerned. Tapping her knife lightly against her glass to illicit a little tune, she raises an eyebrow when the blonde glances back at her to suss the source of the noise, and offers her a knowing smirk, which widens when the Sheriff narrows her eyes and returns to her food.

Slipping from her booth and stalking breezily over to where Emma sits, Regina takes up the stool next to her and snaps at Ruby to fetch her a fresh coffee.

"No confetti and balloons, dear? You  _do_  surprise me..."

"What are you talking about?"

The younger woman grumbles lamely, and the brunette rolls her eyes as she pours cream into the steaming mug placed tentatively before her.

"Your- oh so surprising- lack of enthusiasm in the face of a Charming birthday."

"How did you know it's my-"

"-Your birthday tomorrow? Please. Those two are about as stealthy and capable of conversing at an appropriate volume as Henry and yourself. That, and the day of your birth has had  _quite_  an impact on my _own_  life, Miss Swan...  _Twice_  in fact."

"Oh yeah... The curse-"

"Mmm, 'that old thing', not to mention Goldilocks showing up on my doorstep and endangering my relationship with my son... Both rather memorable occurrences..."

A small hint of a grin at this, but still the blonde refrains from looking up, and simply paints lines of sauce with her fries on the white china.

"Hey, is she actually real?"

"Hmm?"

"Goldilocks."

"No more so than the three little pigs. She's just a legend used in a tale to keep small children from wandering too deep into the forest."

"...Like Hansel and Gretel, you mean...?"

"Magic and witches were a tactile fear in that other land, Miss Swan. Bears too, but for the same reason as they are in  _this_  world."

Regina sniffs, and the blonde finally chuckles in response to the irritability that laces the Mayor's words. Sighing, she looks over at the Queen an proffers her an awkward smile, before finding her composure and adopting a cool look of disinterest. Emma's tentative grin isn't lost on the Mayor, however, and the latter sips at her coffee delicately as she watches the young blonde go about pouring several sachets of sugar into her own mug.

She's pretty sure she understands the reasoning behind Emma's reaction, as it has become somewhat of a normality between the two of them over the past month or so. At first- with the threat of Pan vanquished by Rumplestilstkin but still electric in the atmosphere- there had been a tension within the odd little group which she has yet to figure out _exactly_  how she'd become a part of- seeming to have inadvertently navigated towards the blonde for lack of a _better_  option- while Hook, Neal and Emma had engaged in some sort of awkward dance that had promptly gone absolutely  _nowhere_.

Indeed, about six weeks ago, Regina had found herself sat- to her own surprise- perched on the bench outside the Station, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, while the Sheriff had swung her legs precariously from her position balanced upon the narrow railing, and she had amiably confided her own thoughts on the matter, almost as if they might in some way be  _friendly_  towards one another.

She has since had to simply accept the fact of this being the case.

Just as she has found that so long as neither of them  _mentions_  or  _dwells_  on the subject, she is happy to let such a slip in judgement slide.

The rest of it, though... The way their old, heated tension has led way to what she can now only call _flirting_ \- not that she would  _ever_  allow herself to do such a thing- and the way her schedule has suddenly become inundated with 'town policy' meetings with the younger woman, despite the thankful calm once more having settled over Storybrooke, is a little _less_  palatable.

She thinks back to the evening before last; sitting out in her superbly landscaped garden after putting Henry to bed, sipping at a glass of wine, while the younger woman had been sat sprawled out on her lawn, sporting an untidy ponytail and sunglasses that had reflected the lowering rays redly. Emma had come over to drop off Henry's comic left at the Station, and had proceeded to smile affirmatively in response to the casual offer of a drink. It had only been when the younger woman had complimented her on her haircut and she had playfully admonished that the blonde should perhaps consider following suite, that it had occurred to the brunette that there had been no reason at _all_ to invite the Sheriff across the threshold.

Frowning, now, much as she had then, she places her mug down carefully, before smiling when Emma winces at the sweetness of the liquid in her own. Cocking her head thoughtfully, she smirks as she inquires lightly

"Did you _really_  buy yourself a cake for your birthday last year?"

"Huh?"

"When you showed up at my house, and you were telling me about how Henry came to you and how it was all 'fate' and-"

"-I never said that-"

"-No, but your expression said enough to compensate for you lack of eloquence, as is usually the case... You told me you bought yourself a cake."

"Well, yeah... I  _like_  cake... Why-"

"-And  _I_ like lasagne. But I don't make myself a solitary portion, stick a candle in it, and then tell people about such things."

"... Your point?"

"Oh, no point, I was just pitying your sorry existence, dear."

"That makes a change."

Regina chuckles at the blonde's irritable grumbling, and plucks a note from her purse; sliding it under her mug.

"What kind of cake was it?"

"... You're mocking me, aren't you..."

"Maybe. Humor me."

"Just one of those vanilla cupcake thingies."

"Wild..."

"Yeah, well,  _you_  try finding a bakery open after dark- while dressed like a hooker- that's serving brownies or ice-cream cake or whatever else decent!"

"Dressed like a hooker?"

"... I was working."

"I see."

"Yeah."

"Dressed like a hooker."

"...It was a set up that was supposed to seem like a date... And  _before_  you go imagining-"

"-oh, my dear, save whatever irritation you have; I'm having a hard enough time imagining you on a date at  _all..._ "

"Yeah, well, what would  _you_  know? What, you and Graham enjoyed candlelit-"

"-We enjoyed more romantic experiences than launching ourselves at each other in the middle of a jungle, I can tell you _that_  much!... Of course, when one is comparing such dalliances with the back seat of a _car_ , then-"

"-Oh, go take off the edge, Regina!"

The Sheriff snaps, shoving her own crumpled wad of notes beside her plate, and swinging herself down from her stool moodily. Grabbing her things, she offers a sharp glance at the darker woman who blushes lightly in response to her snide insinuation, before stalking irritably out the door.

Clearing her throat, the brunette runs a finger pensively over her bottom lip, before signalling over the ditzy waitress.

"Miss Lucas, would you happen to know what an 'ice-cream cake' consists of?"

"I guess... But we've never served any I don't think."

"Would you know how to  _make_  one, though?"

Ruby frowns; having come to accept that Regina has changed, but in no way sure how she feels about sharing culinary tips with the once Evil Queen.

"I could... I guess if you tell us when you want it for, I could-"

"-Just write down what it is and how one might make such a thing."

The Mayor offers dismissively; plucking and pen and notebook from her purse and sliding them across to the confused young woman. Baring Ruby's wariness no mind, she takes her phone from her bag and taps at the keys briskly.

_To: Blonde Idiot. 13.04pm:_

_Something's come up. As you have no interest in celebrating tomorrow anyway, I expect you at mine for 8pm to discuss. Don't be late._

_Regina M._

* * *

Glancing down at her phone as it vibrates on her desk, Emma rolls her eyes and mutters beneath her breath. She supposes that in a way it's a good thing that the brunette seems set on sticking to at least  _some_  of her old ways, as she now has an excuse to leave whatever festivities await her tomorrow, and not feel quite so guilty about doing so.

"Still... An evening with an irate Mayor Mills... Happy Birthday to me..."

She groans; sarcasm dripping off her tongue.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sooo... Firstly; part one was an intended one-shot. Secondly... This was then going to be some light hearted smut... Neither of those things happened! Again, this went somewhere I had no clue it was going to, but I figure I already have quite a few simpler sexy-times stories up here, so wanted to play with a storyline I'd been thinking about for a while and see how it was received. Hope you like it, and please review! :)

Regina makes it eight fifteen by the time she hears the Sheriff's bug struggling up the driveway. As a rule, she is a woman for whom lateness is a highly detested sin, but she imagines that if she were still to allow herself to get unnecessarily bothered by the _blonde's_  time keeping, she would have suffered an aneurism long before now.

Peeking out the window at the top of the stairs, she watches as the scrap pile Emma insists on referring to as a car shudders to an uneasy stop and emits a defeated puff of unhealthy smoke. A few seconds later, the woman in question emerges and gives the driver's side front tire a hearty kick as she slams the door shut with unbridled agitation.

"Oh dear..."

The brunette purrs; her expression entirely serene.

Neatening out a small crease in the light summer dress she'd worn beneath a smart blazer earlier on, she pokes her head quickly round the door to Henry's room to check on the boy. As she had suspected, he lies sound asleep, despite the reddening sun casting a hazy glow over the room. Since returning from Neverland and falling more or less back into their old routine, the young brunet has once again become one to retire early and wake up late; something which she supposes is entirely understandable given the general chaos of everyday life in their small town.

She supposes it  _also_  doesn't hurt that the boy had spent the _previous_  evening with the blonde; knowing full well that- despite his adamant declarations to the contrary- his head won't have hit the pillow long before midnight.

And, of course- just as she has every  _other_  time they've bickered about such things- she had pretended to mind.

After all, it's what's  _expected_  of her.

In actual fact, however, she'd been more interested in knowing what festivities the Charmings had ended up bestowing upon their spawn... One takes ammunition where one can find it, after all.

Smirking as she is heralded by a low rapping at the front door- three curt knocks; same as always- she descends the stairs leisurely, and pulls open heavy wood with an arrogant toss of her hair.

"You're late."

"Yeah, well, I would have been here sooner if that thing could handle anything over thirty-five."

"Perhaps you might start taking account of such things, as this was the same excuse you were giving me on your first week of the job. Or perhaps try the Cruiser; I'm almost  _positive_  that the town didn't donate funds due to a deep desire to view a perfectly decent vehicle left forlorn to rust in the parking lot."

"It's after hours..."

"I see... Sheriff Swan; won't stoop to using half a mile's worth of gas on her own time, but sees no problem in stashing a bottle of bourbon in the top drawer of her desk alongside her badge..."

Regina murmurs- rather loudly- to no one in particular as she turns on her heel and strides gracefully away from the door and towards the kitchen.

"That was Graham's!"

Emma argues behind her; darting smartly to the side as heavy wood begins to swing promptly closed in her face.

"Mmm..."

Comes the disinterested reply from the Mayor, who knows full well that the bottle had belonged to the young woman's predecessor, having been the one who had bought him the potent blend in the first place.

"So what did you want, anyway?-"

Emma drawls as she stalks into the kitchen and leans against the fridge with her arms crossed and her hip cocked

"-If it's about the old bean field, I'm still waiting to hear from Leroy about whether he thinks the soil is too fucked to grow stuff."

"Hmm... Strangely, 'fucked' soil, wasn't on my agenda. As to the 'sustainability of the land', I realise you need a second opinion before we can progress... Though, what that _dwarf_  knows about the matter, I have yet to realise?"

"He said he knew what he was talking about and Mary Margaret vouched for him... I'm working off sheer word of mouth here, Regina, I mean, I never knew fairies were particularly _god-fearing_  either, but..."

Emma shrugs, and the brunette chuckles as she perches lightly on one of the high-backed chairs that flank her kitchen table.

"Yes, well, if that word seems founded, then I have no qualms with that foul-mouthed drunk getting his hands dirty."

"...'Gina."

"A mere personal observation, Sheriff, we are, as you said; out of hours."

Emma rolls her eyes, but the Queen catches the beginnings of a grin, before she is huskily reprimanded

"Still... Maybe try a better form of address if you want people to like you..."

"My dear, I couldn't care any less if I _tried_  about whether the people of this town like me or not, just so long as they stay out of my way!"

"... That's not strictly  _true_... I mean... You wouldn't want things to be how they were, I _know_  you wouldn't."

"On the contrary, I would prefer the peace... And, just because you lot show up in my life every five minutes, doesn't mean I'm  _thrilled_  about the fact, nor does it mean that you all suddenly _like_  me."

The brunette chides a little bitterly; not so much out of any form of desire, but rather as she doesn't imagine for a second Emma could understand how she feels on the matter. It is with twisted amusement that she herself has a hard time seeing how it could be that the  _blonde_  is revered so highly by the cretins of the town; Emma's irritatable and surly ways striking her as traits that should render the young woman rather unapproachable to those who haven't seen the... Well...  _Tolerable_... reality she carries beneath her guise.

It simply doesn't make  _sense_  to her that the Sheriff should be seen as preferable company to herself- curse or no curse- as at the very least she has mastered the difficult task of not talking with her mouth full and tucking in her shirt!

Such inane pondering threatens to bring a smile to her lips, which is swiftly vanquished when Emma shrugs and challenges

" _Who_  says we don't like you? I'm just saying maybe try being a bit nicer about people and who  _knows_  what might happen! I mean... You and _I_  never got on before, and  _now_  we're-... Well, now we do."

She finishes gruffly with a defensive shrug, and the darker woman's eyes flash curiously as she opts to skim over any deep-seated emotion with sarcasm.

"I see... Spoken like the true daughter of Snow White... You're getting  _wise_  in your old age, dear."

"Yeah?"

The blonde inquires with a small grin, and Regina rolls her eyes and moves over to the fridge- pushing the younger woman gently out of the way despite the fact that Emma had already made to step aside of her own accord- and plucks out a bottle of chilled Chardonnay.

"I hadn't forgotten. Happy Birthday, Sheriff."

She delivers her congratulations as though speaking of something utterly despicable, but the younger woman grins and shoves her hands into the pockets of her jeans, and Regina eventually smiles as she gives a few deft twists of the corkscrew.

"Thanks."

"No ball gown or fancy up-do, I see?"

Emma snorts with dark humour and takes the glass proffered to her over to the table.

"Not quite. There  _was_  a badge, though..."

"How... Charming..."

The brunette winks; dark coals roaming the younger woman's svelte frame as though searching for evidence. The blonde susses what the Mayor appears to be doing and shakes her head; hoping that the heat she can feel creeping across her cheeks due to Regina's keen observation isn't noticeable.

"I'm not wearing it."

"Spoil-sport."

"I'm the Sheriff!"

"And, if you wore the uniform Graham gave you rather than... Well, yes... That would be a viable argument."

"I already  _have_  a badge."

"Ah yes, and god forbid it should feel neglected while lying under all the rest of your pocket trash."

"...I'm not wearing a bright yellow badge, Regina."

"No, I'd have figured as much... In that respect you're very much unlike your mother."

"Oh, come on, give her a break. Like  _Mary Margaret_  would walk around declaring herself queen for the day... You know... In, uh, in that context."

"Hmm..."

The brunette offers irritably, but her agitation soon subsides, and her tone is smooth and pleasant as she continues between delicate sips of wine.

"Of Mary Margaret, I have no clue as to her celebratory style, save for a substantial lack of taste when it comes to 'welcome home' streamers. I was speaking from experience, however. I remember when Snow turned twelve, she had me lace her into three different dresses over the course of the day, and ordered that everyone else in the castle should wear white. I bought her a bouquet of pink begonias- the colour is affiliated with birthdays and coming of age back in our land- and she had me plait some of them into her hair, lest anyone find themselves confused as to just  _whose_  day it was..."

The darker woman rolls her eyes disdainfully, while the Sheriff licks some escaped wine off the rim of her glass- her tongue pointed and swift in a most unladylike fashion that has the brunette looking quickly away- and raises an eyebrow.

"You bought Snow White _flowers?_ "

It's a legitimate question, the Mayor supposes, so she struggles to harness the irritation she feels due to the blonde's disbelief.

"What you need to  _understand_ , Miss Swan... Emma... Is that what you've _read_  about, actually _happened_... It was _real_  life. As such, my wedding being that to the King took a great deal of time to organise. It was a celebration for not just us, but the whole Kingdom, you see? From the day I saved your mother from whatever menial injury she might have sustained falling off that horse- supposing the animal didn't just calm down and mellow out of its own accord- to the day I was wed, there was an interim period of about ten months. Little is mentioned about this time in Henry's book as little  _happened_. My mother and my husband took care of what they saw fit, while I simply dreaded the day. My qualm at that point was with Leopold, not with his daughter, and in some ways having Snow around seemed like a blessing..."

"...How old _were_  you?... The book doesn't say... Actually, yeah! how old  _are_  you?!"

Regina sniffs primly, but her eyes belie her amusement as she reprimands sharply

"One must never ask a lady her age, dear, it isn't good manners."

"Says the woman asking me where my birthday badge might be..."

The brunette laughs at this, and sips her wine; surprised at the way Emma regards her with unguarded interest, and enjoying her audience.

"I had just turned eighteen before the day in the field. I know that _technically_  that would make me of age- in fact, my mother was growing distraught as to my lack of a suitable match by this point- but... To me..."

"...It's young. It's very young to be forced into something you don't want to do or don't feel ready for."

"Indeed... As  _you_  know better than most. I gather from the date on Henry's birth certificate that you must have been seventeen when you... When that situation came about..."

The blonde's cheeks flare scarlet, and the Mayor continues swiftly; paying Emma's discomfort no concern, but making it clear she doesn't revel in it either.

"That wasn't a stab at you, dear, but rather my opinion. I have never- nor  _will_  I ever- discuss such things as becoming a woman, or the loss of my virtue with  _anyone,_  and I _do_  also realise that things may be different where you come from, but I personally believe eighteen is too young to understand enough about life to rule over others, even if that other is just a baby. Eighteen is young, and seventeen is younger _still_. As to anything before that, I will leave you to your privacy unless you have any argument on the matter?"

"... No, I agree..."

"I'm glad. Many people didn't."

"Your mother?"

"My Kingdom. Well, what was to  _be_  my kingdom. They had their attractive young stand-in for the late Queen, and a woman to make their royal family whole again. I  _had_  said 'yes' let's not forget. I was nervous, and I was unhappy as my heart belonged to another. My King was also thirty-two years my elder, and this did little to lift my spirits. I didn't have anyone to talk to about such things, and he and I had very little in common. During that time, I spent most of my free hours with Snow. She was closer in age to myself than her father was, and, while having a snobbish little brat running around at my heels was a far cry from the peace I'd been treated to as an only child, I enjoyed her company more than just my own. We were actually quite friendly until she... She made her mistake."

The Mayor finishes with a curt nod to imply that she understands that now is not the time- after all that has come to pass- to express what happened as outright betrayal. She supposes she will always think upon Snow's actions as something along those lines, but she has found also that she doesn't enjoy allocating blame amongst the idiots that surround her as she once had.

She has had to do a lot of re-evaluating over the past year- especially while trapped on that hateful island with Snow and her family- and she no longer knows exactly  _what_  she feels. She just knows it's not hate.

And that Emma does _nothing_  to  _alleviate_  her confusion.

Something which frustrates her all the _more_ , as the Sheriff's boundaries when it comes to appropriate behaviour and her own differ quite drastically.

It had been one thing to realise she could just about  _stand_  the younger woman as a friendly ear to share her thoughts with.

It had been something else  _entirely_  having summer set in upon them, and finding herself in the Sheriff's company while not on the clock, only to have the blonde shuck up her top to better appreciate the rays. To have her dropping her layers over the last couple of weeks to flimsy scraps of fabric that leave little to the imagination as to her favoured bra colour.

Black.

Underwear too, it turns out, following a trip to the Diner to collect Henry, only to be informed by a rather sweat-ridden Ruby that she'd put up the sprinkler in the hedged section of the back yard to let Henry play in the water. Regina had thanked her curtly- inwardly already working on her angry monologue towards the blonde for allowing the boy to get his new jeans wet and grass stained- and stalked out onto the patio to claim him... She needn't have worried about Henry's jeans, as it turned out, as her son had been screaming bloody murder while chasing the Sheriff through the icy jets of the sprinkler in just his boxers.

The younger woman herself had been clad in a grey tank and a pair of black, cotton bikini briefs, toting a neon orange water pistol.

In the face of this discovery, Regina had turned woodenly away and marched curtly back through the Diner and out to the safety of her Benz, where she had texted the Sheriff to let her know she would be working late and to drop Henry off whenever the two of them were done with whatever it was they were doing.

Half an hour later, Emma had done just that; subsequently leaving after a brief exchange of pleasantries feeling confused as to the Mayor's continual dropped gaze at her legs.

No, the brunette muses now as she watches the blonde contemplate the last of her wine from beneath sooty lashes; having the Sheriff around does nothing to alleviate her confusion.

"I suppose you've eaten?"

She enquires lightly; pushing her thoughts to the side and offering the younger woman a brilliant smile that has the latter grinning sheepishly back in return.

"I had some dinner, yeah."

There is- of corse- no _reason_  for her to feel sheepish, but Emma just finds that when she's in the darker woman's presence, she tends to get a little flustered and shy; not a predicament she often finds herself in, but then neither is the calibre of her present company. The brunette is  _worryingly_  easy to fall in awe of, and she supposes she understands some of what was retold on the pages of Henry's book for this very reason. The Queen carries a charisma that she has yet to see matched by any other, and this danger is coupled with being  _fatally_  attractive. In short, Regina provides both intimidating and fascinating company, and the fact that it turns out she has more use for her wit than just to cut is a definite plus.

She likes Regina.

And  _may_  just be a little enamoured with her in the process, though this is not something she's about to muse upon too deeply.

_Fuck me but does that dress suit her well, though... And not in that severe 'Mayoral' way, either... It's just a really flattering colour on her I guess, and-... Yeah... Good one, Swan... Goddamn it, you're an idiot..._

This small, scolding voice gives way to the younger drawl she remembers from high school and suggests impishly

_Not an idiot, not at all! It's the dress! The dress is lovely, and would look pretty fucking fantastic balled up and ripped on the floor!_

She lets out a surprised giggle that she swiftly camouflages as a hiccup and looks down at her hands with wide eyes and her teeth clamped over her lips until she trusts herself to speak.

Regina raises an eyebrow at this odd chain of behaviour but says nothing on the subject; simply rising from her chair and stalking over to the freezer.

"Well, if you don't have room, then I suppose you can take it home with you, but..."

Shrugging nonchalantly- as though she has only just remembered its existence- the brunette pulls a small, lidded container from between frozen fish and ice, and places it on the counter. Its transparent sides allow the Sheriff to spy its contents and the blonde opens her mouth in genuine surprise.

"Ice cream cake..."

"Well, I just thought that as you mentioned it yesterday..."

"... You made this?"

Damning emerald stares up at her with wide innocence, and the Mayor sniffs dismissively and shrugs; pulling down a couple of bowls from the wall-mounted cabinet to her right.

"... It was hardly rocket science. It took me all of five minutes."

Regina states curtly as she slides a bowl of oreo, mint and vanilla crumbled with brownie over at the younger woman.

"Yeah... But..."

"I'm not about to put a candle in it or anything, mind."

She scolds; pursing her lips as Emma laughs merrily.

"You're not even going to sing for me?"

"Who says I made this specifically for  _you_ , anyway, dear? I could have just-"

"-Well, it was kind of _implied_  by your candle comment..."

"Yes... Well..."

The darker woman bristles, but the blonde shakes her head and loads up her spoon this practiced ease.

"Yeah, well, _nothing_... Cheer up... I'm showing you quite a leap of faith in eating this!"

Regina frowns in momentary confusion, before she finally chuckles darkly and raises her own spoon to her lips.

"Wrong time of year for apples, dear."

"Ah, you like me far too much to kill me, anyway!"

Emma chides playfully; licking her spoon and missing the sharp glance the brunette throws her way.

"Let's not get carried away, dear..."

The blonde seems undeterred, and scrapes up the last dribbles of melted ice, before offering up a sunny smile.

"...Thank you."

Offering a regally dismissive nod, the Mayor places the lid on what remains of the cake and holds it out to her guest authoritatively.

"Take the rest with you; it won't get eaten here."

"No need to worry about that!"

The Sheriff confides; recognising her cue to leave.

She follows Regina out into the hall and to the front door, smiling at her pleasantly in a way that is reciprocated prettily.

Inside, each woman marvels out how unlikely this scene would have seemed not a couple of months ago.

Nodding farewell, it is only when she moves to get into her car that Emma stills and calls out to the brunette who remains stood in the doorway admiring the sunset.

"Hey, Regina... What _was_  it you wanted me to come over for, anyway?"

"Oh... Oh, it was the bean fields as you'd thought... I must have forgotten you'd said you'd need to hear back from the dwarf..."

"Right..."

"Right."

"... Thanks for the cake, Regina."


	3. Chapter 3

Ducking into the cloying warmth of her bug, the blonde places the container bestowed upon her by the Mayor carefully in the passenger seat and blows unruly hair away from her forehead. She taps her fingers pensively on the old, worn leather of the steering wheel; a small frown crossing sharp features.

Glancing back up at the stately mansion, she finds the brunette has slipped back inside, most likely to go about the scrupulous cleaning of their wine glasses.

A small grin at this, but still Emma finds herself a little thrown by the events of the evening.

_Thrown?... Not quite..._

_Touched?_

Yes, that would be a more fitting description, but it doesn't serve to make her feel any less confused.

Running the tip of her tongue thoughtfully between her teeth, she wrestles her phone out of her pocket and checks the time. In doing so, she spies the blinking icon alerting her to the fact that she has an unread message and opens it up curiously.

_From: Neal C. 21.01pm:_

_Now, how did I know you'd be nowhere to be found when checking at your parents? Streamers may not be your thing, but I believe birthday drinks are. Come over and we'll do things a little more low key. Happy Birthday. Xx_

Emma nibbles her lip thoughtfully; the mention of drinks serving to make her realise that one glass of wine is definitely not going to be enough on her least favourite of days. She supposes she  _should_  go around to Neal's, as at least she knows what to expect when it comes to the time they spend together these days. Beer- or whisky, depending on his mood- and easy conversation.

He doesn't mention Tamara and she doesn't bring up Hook.

Easy.

_Still..._

Still, she finds herself looking back up at the stately building before her.

She hadn't expected Regina to do what she'd done for her this evening, despite the darker woman showing the odd act of kindness here and there more and more often these days that can no longer be explained away as simple 'curtesy'.

Like occasionally showing up with coffee when coming down to the Station along with whatever issue needing to be addressed, despite disliking the taste from a paper cup herself.

And giving her a lift home  _several_  times now after being caught out by the rain.

And, well, just simply giving her someone to talk to.

Someone _normal._

The Sheriff scoffs at this thought in amusement, but she supposes the fact of the matter is, Regina doesn't pussy-foot around her with the curious sense of new discovery and the tentative advances of a blossoming relationship that she has come to expect from the others.

Regina just does what  _Regina_  feels like doing, and the rest of the world can like it or lump it.

And she, Emma- it turns out- likes it just fine.

Likes the self-assured boldness of the Mayor, and the smart wit that is censored only so far as to keep her manner of speaking eloquent, but not so as to soften the sting of her words.

In short... The Evil Queen is surprisingly amusing.

The blonde smiles- her fingers hovering over the key already slotted into the ignition- before she glances back down to the cake melting merrily away as she ponders, and recalling the slight note of bitterness tinging the Mayor's otherwise sultry tone.

 _...Just because you lot show up in my life every five minutes, doesn't mean I'm thrilled about the fact, nor does it mean that you all suddenly_  like _me..._

Lowering her head as she studies tapping fingers indecisively, the blonde eventually sniffs with her solution and pushes herself once more from the car. Making quick work of the steps up to the front door, she hesitates, before rapping against the smartly painted wood; feeling obscurely shy.

She can tell from the look of surprise the brunette regards her with that Regina had no more anticipated any further interaction for the evening than she had herself.

"Miss Swan?"

"Hey... Umm... Neal just texted me... He wants me to come by for a couple of drinks..."

"... Okay...?"

"I mean, usually it's more like beer and stuff but I can pick up some wine too."

Emma drawls with an overly dismissive shrug of her shoulders. The Queen frowns in open confusion; not entirely sure why on earth the blonde should be running her plans by her, nor what she's expecting in terms of an answer.

"Well... You don't need _my_  permission, Sheriff..."

The younger woman blushes a little at this, before continuing with careful nonchalance

"I just... Well... Do you want to come?"

The blonde shoves her hands promptly into her pockets and regards her boots as the darker woman's brows shoot up in surprise. Finding her voice with swift efficiency, Regina purrs disdainfully

"I could think of  _better_  ways to spend my evening than in the company of fools... I have already suffered  _more_  than my fair share as it is, dear-"

Before softening her tone ever so slightly as she catches flustered irritation creep into downcast eyes.

"-Not to mention that Henry is sound asleep upstairs..."

"Oh, fuck! The _kid!_ "

Emma exclaims as her cheeks blossom scarlet. Regina sighs- but not without a fair touch of amusement- and rolls her eyes.

"Well, it's a good thing _one_  of us remembered we had one."

"I just... I kind of..."

"Forgot?"

"What?  _No!_... Well, not that I had one... Just that he was here."

The blonde grins as she plays into her mistake sheepishly; knowing full well- just as Regina does- that she has simply gotten used to the idea of their 'family' being rather extended and abundant when it comes to babysitters.

"Yes... Well..."

"Sorry... I just didn't want you to think you weren't invited or anything."

The Sheriff finishes lamely; her cover for trying to approach the topic as to the Queen's feelings towards their little group painfully transparent.

Still, Regina has come to expect little else from the blonde- the younger woman in no way fit to play counsellor, but surprisingly empathetic in a curiously childish way, however much she might strive to hide such a thing- and crosses her arms as she leans against the door frame.

"I've already told you that I prefer the peace I am blessed with when you lot are keeping yourselves otherwise occupied... But... Thank you."

"It's cool."

Emma shrugs, and the two of them suffer in silence for a moment as this  _should_  act as the cue for the Sheriff to make her way back down the steps, and yet she doesn't make any movement to do so.

Clearing her throat, the Mayor inspects her nails as though bored.

"... I imagine the promise of beer and raucous conversation might be a little more appealing, but... If you  _wanted_  to finish the last of the wine before heading over to Neal's, I think there might still be a little patch of sun at the very back of the garden."

She offers expressionlessly; not quite sure what to make of their current little situation and not willing to put herself at risk of looking any sort of fool.

The blonde looks remarkably pretty in the last rays of summer sun, however, and when Emma looks back up at her with a genuine smile of acceptance, she supposes she might just like the younger woman's company after all.

"That would be nice..."

"You don't  _have_  to say so in fear of hurting my feelings, dear, I can _assure_  you that I couldn't care less as to-"

"-I wasn't. Now shut up and don't ruin my birthday."

Emma chides; fully aware of just how much the brunette despises being told to shut up, and grinning at the darker woman to show that she knows this  _perfectly_  well.

Rolling her eyes, Regina moves out of the way of the door and allows the Sheriff to slip past her back into the hallway.

"You won't be missed?"

"Not my bedtime yet, Madame Mayor."

"Hmm..."

"...What?"

Emma growls irritably, despite the fact that she extends a hand to take the glass the brunette proffers her and follows her out of the french doors and across the lush green of the lawn.

"I suppose of all people to turn up at their doorstep late at night, _Neal's_  hardly going to mind-"

"-You  _do_  realise you're talking about someone I last fucked when I was seventeen? We're _friends_ , Regina. Apart from the topics of conversation, he and I don't do _anything_  different than what you and I are doing right now."

"Except  _I'm_  not imagining you naked."

The brunette growls as she takes a seat in one of the cushioned lawn chairs that sit beneath her apple tree. Emma follows suite, chuckling huskily.

"You  _say_  this..."

Rolling her eyes, Regina shakes her head and takes a sip from her wine; inwardly musing that she perhaps shouldn't have helped herself to a glass while preparing dinner, as two glasses is ordinarily her limit. Still, she decides she'll happily accept this excuse to explain why the Sheriff's crass humour has set her cheeks aglow with faint scarlet roses.

" _Really_ , Sheriff..."

She sniffs irritably, while cordially ignoring the fact that Emma's insinuation has her pondering the fact that- with the younger woman's favoured habit of donning skintight clothes- she believes she has a _fairly_  good idea of what the Sheriff might have to offer as it is.

_Offer? A curious way of stating forced voyeurism._

The blonde simply shrugs, settling back in her chair and closing her eyes as the red orb of the setting sun casts withered shadows over the lawn; a shot of whisky before leaving her apartment and the chilled danger of the Mayor's wine painting her tongue and calming her mind.

"Not that I would mind a bit of action, I guess..."

She yawns, and the brunette chokes on her wine and offers up a bemused glower in response which goes merrily unseen.

"Miss Swan! If you wouldn't mind  _sparing_  me the will of your loins!"

"What? It's my birthday."

Emma smirks cattily; entirely content to continue causing the Mayor discomfort as she grins with her lashes closed and her glass held loosely in her hand.

Narrowing her eyes as she drinks in slender limbs and impish mischief playing across features she realises she has come to know  _disconcertingly_  well, the darker woman acts on instinct- and perhaps just a  _little_  on wine- and leans over to brush her lips quickly against the Sheriff's unsuspecting own.

" _Regina!_ "

Smirking victoriously when this heralds a shocked cry and the opening of wide, green eyes, she shrugs gracefully and settles back in her chair, purring sultrily.

"What? As you said... It's your birthday."


	4. Chapter 4

_"What? As you said... It's your birthday."_

Regina smirks, though she finds that what had seemed like an excellent idea in a brief moment of insanity now causes her cheeks to flare crimson almost as vibrantly as Emma's own.

"What the  _hell_?!"

The younger woman cries, but, rather than any hint of fury or irritation, the Mayor cautiously deduces that the blonde's incredulous tone is simply one of confusion.

"Sorry, dear. This is my third."

The darker woman sighs gesturing with her glass; not usually one to make excuses for herself- nor imply that she might be behaving in any other fashion but fabulously- but she needs an answer to explain what just happened as much for her  _own_  peace of mind as for the Sheriff's.

"Yeah, but... I mean... You  _kissed_  me..."

Emma frowns; leant over in her chair to study the Mayor raptly, and the latter throws her a haughty look that is decidedly admirable in its credibility given the uncomfortable churning of her insides.

"If you could even  _call_  it that. It was a  _joke_ , Miss Swan. Ill-mannered, I will admit, but let's not lose all manner of control over a mere brushing of lips."

She snaps; berating her mind as it swims with the unfavourable question

 _But did you_ enjoy _it?_

Such awkwardness and self-doubt isn't at all like her, but, there has been something brewing between the two of them for a while now, and from the looks on Emma's face- eyes wide with shock, but tongue peeking out to run experimentally over recently accosted flesh- she is finally able to say for certain that she's not the  _only_  one aware of it.

"Didn't think you were one for jokes..."

The blonde offers quietly; her gaze still fixated raptly on the darker woman, and darting again and again to pleasantly full lips.

"Then why choose to spend time with me, if I fail to amuse you?"

Regina enquires silkily, but the Sheriff understands such prickly disdain to come from a place of discomfort rather than hurt, and she brushes the Queen's words aside with a shake of her head.

"You amuse me plenty. Sometimes. But I'd always taken you as one for clever witticisms... Not ph-physical comedy."

She clears her throat as she utters this last part, and Regina relaxes a little as she understands that she's not alone in her confusion. The blonde's attention seems split between trying to breeze over this small hiccup of insanity shared between them, and staring as though hypnotised at the slowly spreading grin that finally finds her lips upon this realisation.

"Have I made you uncomfortable?"

The Mayor asks with rich note of delight; able to turn the tables and enjoy herself now that she understands Emma's not about to start asking after her motives.

After all... She has no  _clue_  what to tell her.

"Well, I mean, I kind of just... I wasn't really expecting you to do that."

The Sheriff shrugs gruffly, and Regina notes with a sense of growing glee that Emma isn't able to pull off amused nonchalance anywhere near as well as she is.

A good thing too, because the blonde's lips had tasted like wine and her skin had carried the faintest hint of the sweet scent of suntan lotion, and memories of her thoughts- and her body's reactions- the other day when Emma had deemed it perfectly acceptable to use her garden as her own, personal tanning booth dance dangerously beneath her smile.

"I merely ask because you're a grown woman glowing positively _scarlet_  due to having to utter the word 'physical'..."

She muses with a goading smirk, and Emma rolls her eyes dramatically and replies smartly

"I don't have any issues when it comes to _fucking_ , Regina, I just wasn't expecting come ons from the Mayor."

The brunette purses her lips at this, allowing the Sheriff a moment's victory as Emma surveys the way dark eyes flash at her use of language- and with something  _other_  than simple disdain, she is sure-, and delicate colour creeps up the slender column of the Mayor's throat in light of her sarcastic insinuation.

"It is  _so_  like  _you_  to turn things into something so much _bigger_  than what they are."

Regina sighs, but, it isn't lost on either of them that- all bickering and snideness aside-  _neither_  of them has resorted to their usual snarling and storming from the scene when the other has them at their momentary mercy. Neither of them has  _moved_.

"Don't be a bitch... It's my birthday."

Emma answers eventually- appealing silently for a truce- and, while her words cause the brunette to glower at her furiously, the younger woman lowers herself back against the warm wood of the chair and sips at her wine in a clear display of calling an end to any lingering discussion on the matter.

Something which Regina would  _ordinarily_  be in high favour of... But...

 _We're just going to leave it at_  that _?_

_Just a small, improbable slip up that neither of us will ever mention again?_

This undoubtedly seems like a  _wise_  course of action, and yet she finds herself watching raptly as the younger woman's throat works when she swallows.

"...Precisely, I was fulfilling your birthday wishes..."

She muses as she lowers herself back into her chair also, and closes her eyes while she waits to see if the matter will be resumed. She's content to leave the decision with Emma; her mood currently pleasantly mellow due to the wine, but her instincts sharp enough to recognise the difference between pushing- rather dangerous- buttons a while longer to examine the results, and stumbling into unknown territory that might haunt them for the foreseeable future.

She enjoys riling the blonde up

_... Flirting with her..._

But she isn't about to dignify any preposterous claims or queries about any forms of  _attraction_  to the Sheriff in light of her simple teasing with a response.

"Hmm... Evidently you received a different Amazon wish list to everyone else..."

The blonde offers dryly, and the Mayor laughs at this wickedly and sips at her glass.

"If I believed for a  _second_  you were the sort for compiling such a thing, I would scold you for being so impersonal. As I know fully well that you are both _horribly_  unforthcoming, and despise receiving gifts you can't devour, I won't waste my breath. You were lamenting your 'lack of action'. I merely decided to acknowledge the day and behave in a charitable fashion."

"Yeah... Well..."

Emma mumbles with a frown, before grinning over at the Mayor and admitting with a salacious lilt

"I suppose you're a favourable date to  _last_  year."

"You mean the gentleman for which you were clad as a hooker?"

"Bite me. At least I got paid."

"No comment."

Regina smirks, cordially ignoring Emma's use of the word 'date', and the childish flash of her middle finger.

"...I'm just sorry there's no vines or perilous shrubbery I could offer up for familiar recent scenery."

She remarks slyly, and the blonde cocks her jaw in order to offer up a particularly withering look.

"Will you  _quit_  with that? It was a one time thing, okay? I was on the fucking edge all day-"

"-Information I did  _not_  need-"

"-Not like  _that_! The thing with Hook was just, shit, I don't know... Nerves."

"That's what you do when you get  _nervous_?! Well, I suppose that answers the question of how you drive the way you do and yet hold a license..."

"Oh, shut up. And you know, I don't bring up  _Graham_  and your mistakes every five minutes to rub your face in them, so quit bringing up mine."

"My dear, I believe the, hmm,  _fatal_  flaw in whatever the good Sheriff and I had worked out between us was, well...  _You_. I'm hardly  _surprised_  you don't bring him up!"

"Oh, come on, you know nothing ever really-"

"-And  _that_ , Miss Swan, constitutes the end of the list of ammunition you would be able to use in this instance. Whereas  _I_  have Graham, Hook, Neal...  _Who_ , by the way, is probably wondering where you are."

"For the last time!-

 _"-Nothing's going on with Neal!_ "

Emma snaps; glowering when the brunette chimes in and echoes her with a cruel smirk.

"No, I know, you 'don't do anything when the two of you are together that you and _I_  don't do'-"

Regina teases, before stopping abruptly when the younger woman leans over without warning and mimics her earlier act of brushing soft lips against her own in a successful ploy to cut her off.

They remain that way, pink pressed hesitantly to red, for a cruelly long time, and the blonde finds herself on the verge of cracking up as the half-formed thought of how amusing it is to stare nakedly into shocked, dark coals- so close that her own eyes are almost crossed- surfaces in her mind, before the Mayor lowers down sooty lashes and kills any sense of giddy humour battling to escape from her lungs.

Closing her own eyes, Emma swallows as she brushes her lips a little more firmly against the brunette's and makes a small noise in the back of her throat when the latter slips her the warm velvet of her tongue.

Moving with great care- and considerable awkwardness- not to break the connection between them by some intuitive knowledge that doing so will bring the moment to an end, the Sheriff pushes herself from her seat and settles tentatively to straddle the Mayor's hips; careful to take her weight on her knees in an attempt to keep from making this insanity any  _more_  tactile until slim fingers find her hips and pull her down gently.

Those same fingers proceed to wander with slow uncertainty to trace the rigid waistband of tight bluejeans, and rest- featherlight- on the warm flesh exposed as the blonde leans forwards; the darker woman's mind conjuring up the memory of scant black cotton and pale, slender thighs but not quite trusting herself to explore further.

Similarly, as the Sheriff's hands creep from their hesitant hovering at her sides to fall lightly at the Mayor's waist, Emma finds herself thinking of her earlier lechery when admiring the brunette's dress; the thin fabric delectably soft beneath her fingers and tantalisingly warm.

Running her thumbs gently over the base of the Regina's ribs as the latter becomes a little more aggressive in her kiss, thoughts of flimsy fabric and sultry comments and heated looks spin through each woman's mind to fuel their movements; palms grazing treacherously higher and sinful velvet demanding ever more.

As pale fingers tremble over softly globed flesh and delicate hands simultaneously give in to their urge to slip down over pert denim to pull the younger woman in closer, this unlikely progression causes each of them to start, and blonde's boot twitches gently against the remains of the Mayor's glass and tips the left over liquid onto the seat.

"Hey!"

Emma jumps in surprise as the chilly dregs seep into the knee of her jeans, and the brunette frowns with exasperation and exclaims irritably

"For heaven's sake!"

"It wasn't on purpose..."

The blonde appeals breathlessly, as she pushes herself back and regards the Mayor with an expression of dazed shock. The latter offers her a look of much the same, swallowing audibly and retracting her hands from the former's backside swiftly

"...Wasn't Neal expecting you?"

"Oh. Shit. Yeah... Yeah, he was."

Emma nods distractedly, pushing herself up so hastily that she overbalances and almost topples from the chair, before the darker woman catches her and holds her steady.

"...Thanks."

"Well... It's your birthday..."

Regina explains huskily; eyes locked down the front of the younger woman's top as they remain nose to nose.

"Yeah."

Emma agrees, forgetting all resolve to move as her hand rests on the brunette's bare thigh beneath the thin fabric of her dress; innocently clutched in an effort for balance and now seeming to burn with the impossible heat of the Mayor's flesh.

Licking her lips as the darker woman raises her eyes to meet her own, the Sheriff removes her hand slowly as the latter pushes herself up gingerly and brushes the creases from her dress in an- almost believable- business like fashion.

"Yes, well. I hate to keep you. I-"

"-No. It's cool. It's fine. I should just.. Uh..."

"Yes. I... Yes. You should, um-"

"-Go-"

"-Yes, you should go."

Regina agrees, stalking alongside the blonde whose pace speaks of one attempting to escape rather than simply mount the steps to the kitchen, and the brunette swallows as she is sure her own desperation to shake herself free of this insanity is only hindered by her ingrained sense of poise.

"So, uh, thanks for... Thanks for the cake, and-"

"-I already told you, it was a simple recipe. Very little effort was spared in making-"

"-I know, I know. You said... But thanks anyway."

"Pleasure. Have, um... Have fun tonight, Miss Swan..."

"Thanks..."

The blonde smiles, glancing over at the door, but unable to make the next move as her eyes dart back to lock with glittering embers, and she recognises that dark tension and delectable electricity between them so well, and so _intimately_ ; thinking of all the times they've stared each other down in just such a way and finally  _understanding_  now the heat that had boiled inside each of them that had made those moments nauseatingly intense and yet somehow inexplicably exciting.

"Regina..."

"Yes?"

"When, uh... When's  _your_  birthda-"

But the rest is nothing but a surprised yelp as her shoulders collide with the kitchen wall- painted a tasteful manilla- and parted lips crash desperately against her own.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A fic I had previously presumed finished! I was asked to add a chapter to this for a friend's birthday. This whole story was actually started as a request from my best friend for a birthday one shot, and it seems to be a nice tradition as this is now the third person I have added a birthday chapter for :) I have a new fic (Truth or Dare) that is going in a similarly steamy direction, but this was a nice change of scenery for tonight so I hope you enjoy! I just like playing with the different times/ settings. Please review! :)

Reciprocating the brunette's kiss a little clumsily in her shock, Emma allows the darker woman momentary dominance until she begins struggling for air. Pushing her back a little shakily, she regards her with wide eyes.

"Regina, what-"

"-I'd say 'what' is rather  _obvious_ , dear. Now, are you going to keep asking stupid questions or do you want to  _do_  this? I'm only going to ask once, and if you're going to insist on giving instinct and inebriation an ineloquent running commentary you'd best leave now. This isn't something I have any wish to dis- _cuss_!"

She chokes on the last word as Emma cuts her off wetly- none of her previous uncertainty playing between them, but simply the same build up of desire Regina feels herself. The Mayor plunges her hands into soft, thick curls as she presses the blonde once more up against the wall and leans into her. The Sheriff parts her legs a little to allow the brunette to push into her fully, her own hands once more at Regina's waist and moving restlessly.

"Wait."

The darker woman hisses, and Emma stops her exploration and throws her a look that is both dazed and irritable.

"You just  _said_ -"

"-I  _know_  what I just said! I stand by it! But I'm not sure the kitchen is the best place to do  _this_  with Henry upstairs! What if he wakes up and wants a glass of water?!"

"Shit..."

Emma huffs, and she tucks her hair behind her ear with a flustered exhalation, licking her lips and regarding the brunette doubtfully. This crestfallen glower of defeat has the Mayor smirking slowly as she grabs a hold of the younger woman's wrist and pulls her along behind her.

"Where are we-"

"-Shut up. Just come."

Regina snaps beneath her breath, and for once her order is obeyed, but then she supposes given what's at stake this isn't all that surprising.

Leading Emma back through the french doors and out into the low setting sun, they make their way back to the chairs beneath the tree before she turns to face the younger woman and inquires bossily.

"Do you think you might be able to refrain from _ruining_  things this time?"

The blonde opens her mouth to retaliate, before deciding that arguing with Regina has rarely led her to be the victor and subsequently simply pushing the Mayor roughly onto the seat.

"Hey! What the hell are you-"

"-Are you going to give me a running commentary every time I do something?"

Emma asks sarcastically, settling back down across narrow hips once more, and the brunette flashes her a dangerous look before pulling her down with equal aggression and biting at her lip in reprimand. The blonde makes a small noise that doesn't sound  _especially_  opposing to the Mayor, so she sinks her teeth in a little more forcefully as pale fingers skim over the fabric of her dress clumsily in search of a zip.

"It's at the back."

"Well  _that's_  pretty fucking useless isn't it?"

The younger woman grumbles, before indulging in a swift internal regroup and a change of direction. Taking in a sharp breath as the blonde raises herself up momentarily to push her dress up over her hips none to gently, Regina pulls her back down with a cruel dig of her nails, inwardly stunned

 _We're_ really _doing this then..._

It seems that way, and she slips her hand back down to grasp the Sheriff's backside in order to position her in a way where her weight can be better enjoyed. The benefit of the brunette's silent suggestion isn't lost on Emma and she swallows audibly before leaning back in for a taste.

_Holy fuck, she's actually getting off on this..._

Well, she supposes that at least makes two of them, but there is something really quite dizzying about being encouraged- not too subtly- to move in a way where the results are deliciously obvious.

_Damn!_

Giving one final, hard squeeze to pert flesh with the trust that Emma might have enough sense to keep moving of her own accord, Regina slips her hands between the two of them and struggles with the button to the blonde's jeans. She doesn't see any way of removing the Levis fully without risking too long of a break from the wonderful insanity being played out between them, so she parts rough denim as best as she can before shucking the younger woman's top up over the satin cups of her bra. Stroking and pinching at newly exposed flesh hungrily with her left hand, she slings the right around skinny shoulders to pull the Sheriff almost flush; trapping her hand between their bodies and increasing the debauched sensation of Emma moving against her.

"Keep doing that."

She instructs raspily into the blonde's ear, speaking through the tumbling waves of her hair that pool down onto her own flesh teasingly. The younger woman simply nods and turns her attention to the sensitive underside of her jaw, causing Regina to groan quietly as she tilts her head back to allow the Sheriff greater ease with her wet exploration south.

Shivering as Emma bites gently at her clavicle, she goes back to holding the younger woman firmly against her, encouraging her to move a little more roughly as she feels herself getting close to the edge. She warns the blonde of this and the latter pauses momentarily- seemingly overwhelmed by what's about to happen- before she simply exchanges the soft caress of her teeth for the maddening pressure of her lips and continues to move as she has been instructed to.

"Emma, if you dare stop again..."

Regina warns through gritted teeth, and the younger woman laughs against her throat as she doesn't miss a beat

"You'll curse me or something?"

The blonde whispers into soft, mussed hair, and the brunette smacks her irritably on the backside before letting out a small moan as Emma goes back to nipping at her jaw while her fingers get lost in dark waves.

"Oh god, Emma."

The Mayor hisses, before her words trail off into a broken hum and she squeezes her thighs around the blonde's tellingly.

"Woah."

The Sheriff murmurs breathlessly, and Regina can't help but chuckle as she rides out the waves of her pleasure while keeping the younger woman held against her firmly; enjoying the feel of rough denim against the soft skin of her thighs.

Gathering herself slightly, and all too aware of the blonde's low panting, the Mayor pulls her down into an open mouthed kiss as she wrestles her free hand down into tight denim. Emma freezes above her immediately, pulling away from parted lips just a little as she looks down at her with troubled eyes.

"Regina..."

The younger woman addresses uncertainly. She is still entirely floored by the fact that the goddammed Mayor just came undone beneath her ( _and admittedly a little smug_ ).  _This_ , though. This is different. It's a step further. Yes, the brunette's fingers rest between tight denim and the rather damp swatch of her underwear, but it's still a much higher level of intimacy so far as she sees it.

Studying hesitant features flushed a delectable pink, the Mayor applies a little more pressure with the touch of her fingers but doesn't move them.

"Do you want me to stop?"

She challenges, and Emma swallows before whispering almost inaudibly

"No."

Leaning in to kiss the brunette once more, the Sheriff's breath catches raspily as devious fingers begin their work. She tastes the Mayor slowly, shivering now and then as hot waves of excitement coil low in her abdomen, her own fingers playing shakily through glossy locks.

Unlike Regina, when the blonde goes over, she does so without making a sound. Instead, she shudders violently, before tensing rigidly against the soft form of the Mayor- her breathing quiet but frantic. She buries her face into the delicate bow of the darker woman's clavicle, tugging gently at the brunette's wrist before raising her hips just a little to facilitate the brunette in slipping her hand out from between them.

Regina allows her to remain that way for a little while, despite the obscurity of the situation. Her own breathing is still laboured and harsh, as much from her own pleasure as experiencing the Sheriff's. Emma's teases her flesh in a way she secretly finds quite pleasant, the blonde panting lightly against her.

"Well... That was... That was-"

"-Different..."

Emma offers into the hollow of her throat, and Regina nods warily, gently pulling down the wrinkled cotton of the blonde's top to hide the delicate line of her spine.

"It was different alright."

She agrees, studying the younger woman as she pushes herself up, Emma still sitting splayed over her, with one hand lost in her hair and her lip caught awkwardly between her teeth.

"I can't believe you actually..."

She starts, before seeming unsure just how to continue.

"Didn't we agree we'd not discuss any of this?"

"Yeah. Okay."

The Sheriff nods- first a little woodenly and then with greater conviction as she pulls herself together and pushes herself up off the chair.

"I think that's _probably_  wise."

She grins shyly, and the Mayor agrees curtly as she too gets up and attempts to smooth down the crumpled fabric of her dress. She catches Emma watching her curiously, and clears her throat.

"That ice-cream will be nothing more than soup by now."

She sighs in a breathlessly irritable tone, and the blonde nods before bursting out laughing. There is a slightly hysterical note behind her usual dry humour, but she guesses Regina doesn't need her to explain why that may be.

"I think I can deal with that."

She smiles, and the brunette shrugs as she gives up trying to fix her ruined dress.

"You should go."

She states quietly, and Emma winces but doesn't take offence.

"Yes. I guess so."

She agrees, before giving in to her strange yet undeniable urge to say say thank you.

"Thanks."

"... Don't mention it. Seriously...  _Don't_."

"Okay."

"Happy birthday, Miss Swan."

"Yeah. Thank you."

Emma acknowledges uncomfortably, buttoning up her pants and turning to leave.

"May fifth."

"Huh?"

She asks, glancing back at the brunette in confusion.

"May fifth. That's my birthday."


End file.
